


no one knows that we’re losing the light

by adotham (Bates)



Series: The moment always vanishing. [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Drunk Alexander, F/M, M/M, Post Break Up, hungover alexander, set in 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 00:36:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6400480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bates/pseuds/adotham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Who were you with" + lams</p><p>It's January 2006 and John and Alexander have ended their relationship just a few weeks prior. Even though John has moved on, it's different when Alexander comes home drunk with someone for the first time and John is there to hear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no one knows that we’re losing the light

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in my modern hamilton au, prior to all the letters. It can be read as a stand alone, but could also offer some background on the time that John and Alexander had at university. c:

_“Alexander comes home late, drunk. He’s not alone.”_

 

John’s clock blinked four am at him when Alexander finally stumbled in through the door of their apartment. He’d barely gotten more than two hours of sleep between Alexander leaving and him coming back. The only reason he was awake was because of the door slamming against the frame loudly as he stumbled in. John should be pissed at him, but he was too sleepy to care. Especially because he knew that Alex wasn't alone. After years, this was almost a routine; a dance they knew by heart. They used to do this dance together. They’d go out together and drink, be as careless as they could afford to be before going back to their apartment and either making out or stumbling into bed together; limbs tangled and both of them loose and relaxed. John remembered many nights of talking and counting the freckles on his back. Apparently, it wasn't a 'them' thing, not just what they used to be, now it was just an Alexander thing. He knew that those days were gone. Yet, somehow, the world had thought that he needed a reminder. John could hear Alex and see them, as he pressed kisses down the person’s neck and heard how he whispered. This what they'd used to do. This used to be them. John knew. Knew that the stench of alcohol clinging to the two of them was the cause. He shouldn’t feel hurt over this. Not anymore. He’d been sleeping on the pull out couch for months now, like when they started studying back in ’01. He wasn't entitled to Alexander, he'd known that he'd start dating again. Not once had it been as painful as that moment, however.

He knew that those days were gone. Yet, somehow, the world had thought that he needed a reminder. John could hear Alex and see them, as he pressed kisses down the person’s neck and heard how he whispered. This what they'd used to do. This used to be them. John knew. Knew that the stench of alcohol clinging to the two of them was the cause. He shouldn’t feel hurt over this. Not anymore. He’d been sleeping on the pull out couch for months now, like when they started studying back in ’01. He wasn't entitled to Alexander, he'd known that he'd start dating again. Not once had it been as painful as that moment, however.

The realization shouldn’t have hurt as if someone had plunged a knife into his chest, yet it did. It was pathetic, how he still hurt over a decision they'd made together and weeks ago. He'd had a few weeks now to get used to it, to the emptiness of his chest and sharing the apartment with his best friend again, instead of his lover. Because after all, John no longer was that. He no longer was his lover, his secret stashed away for when there was no chance anyone could see them.

“Shhh, you gotta be careful,” he could hear Alexander whisper, a drag in his voice that was all too familiar. John couldn’t imagine how many beers he’d had already, as it usually took him a while before he got actually drunk and didn't think that the hangover was worth it. They’d tried, tested the limits together. “Jack’s asleep.”

“Then why don’t we move this to your room?” The voice was quiet, clearly feminine. “We won’t have to be so quiet there.”

“Oh, we will. These walls are…cardboard. Can you be quiet for me?” John could barely make out their shapes as they traveled across the room. “Can you be quiet for me, gorgeous?”

“Of course.” The woman’s voice was already quieter. “Can you be?”

“I’ll show you.”

 

It was the last thing John could hear before they closed the door behind them and he knew it wouldn’t quite be the last thing. Alexander’s bed was old and creaked; it would never be completely silent, even if Alexander could be. Alex was the guy who could ride out his orgasms, make other people feel like they're in heaven by just sharing a bed with him and not make a noise. He'd be quiet and open-mouthed, breathing against their skin. John ought to know; he'd been in her place plenty of times, he'd seen him unravel and fall apart more times than he could remember. Especially at first, when their relationship was nothing but them exploring how far they could go, how far their affection for each other went.

He’d always thought that it was a way to make up for him in real life; he was loud when awake, sometimes he wouldn't stop talking until John gave him a cup of coffee and told him to just shut it for a minute while they woke up. If there had to be one place he was quiet, it had to be the bedroom. It was something their neighbors had to be, without a doubt, thankful for and perhaps, he too. They could have been outed if that was the case; the neighbors could hear and start to question why they never saw any girls leaving. They'd draw their conclusions soon enough.

He ignored it, for a long time; the creaking of the bed and the soft whimpers escaping from the woman. She wasn’t as skilled and trained in staying quiet, but he knew she was probably trying. Trying as hard as she could possibly do while drunk. No matter how much it made his heart ache, he was still thankful. At least, there was no screaming, nothing his earbuds couldn’t block out. John could pretend that Alex was just asleep in the other room if he really tried.

 

Nevertheless, John didn’t get another second of sleep that night. Long after they had fallen quiet, he’d laid there staring at the ceiling, trying to stop the whirring of his brain, trying to stop the train of thought. Even the coffee he started at six am didn’t help distract him. This was his fault, he knew it. He should have been over it, by now. He had Martha. While they weren’t in love, not the way they were supposed to, it was something, a start. She distracted him, helped him study, took care of him. Martha kept the never stopping stream of Alexander from taking over his mind.

And god, Martha was beautiful, smart, crazily skilled with her camera. She had a way of making everyone in her life feel loved and cared for. Even if John wasn't quite attracted to her in a sexual way, not the way he should been, she was good at making him forget everything for a while. In a way, he loved her, cared for her, he really did. John just never brought her home, didn't connect those two parts of his life when he didn't have to do so. Alexander knew about her, had met her once, but that was as far as their connection went.

Yet, Alexander had chosen to do that so quickly and he wondered why. If his was his way of saying 'I'm over it too'.

 

It took another hour before the walls felt like they were caving in and he needed to get out. He couldn't stay in the apartment, where the faint smell of the woman's perfume still lingered. Seven am was too early for most coffee shops and libraries to be open and it was freezing, but he knew he'd find a place to go for warmth. He had commissions to work on and other school related illustrations to finish. He should work. At least work would distract him enough; it always did.

When he locked the door at seven fifteen, he was still dressed in his sweatpants, but at least he was outside. He hadn't had the heart to get his clothes out of Alex's room, where they were still stored as a cruel reminder of what they’d had. Even if he'd wanted to, he didn't want to risk tripping over their clothes or waking them up. In all honesty, John didn't even want to see the woman's face.

He had always been a fan of the outdoors. There was something about the clean air (even if that was a debatable statement when he spend most of his time outdoors in the outskirts of New York) helped him work, helped him calm down a little bit. Even with more background noise, the cold helped him focus on the task he had in front of him. Sometimes, the painting was easier too. It meant that he had to drag his watercolors out with him, but he could at least sit down, sketch the scene and grab a leaf or three to take with. John could sit down in a coffee shop and use the leafs as a reference for the colors while painting. He could even have a relatively cheap breakfast while working. Anything was better than the toast they usually had had home.

 

People had told him more than once that you don’t know what you have until you don’t have it anymore until it's gone. For the longest of times, John hadn’t believed it. It was just a saying that people of previous generations thought up to scare them, like the whole economic situation and current stock market. Yet, in the past couple of weeks, he'd realized that perhaps they'd been telling the truth all along. He hadn’t realized how lucky he had been with Alexander in his life as his partner until they stopped the secrecy and moved on. He hadn’t noticed how different it was to be in a same-sex relationship.

With Martha, it was different. John could take her on walks through the park and go to bookshops, he could buy her flowers and tell the shop owner who they were for without lying. John could take her out on dates and give her a kiss when they were out for dinner or breakfast. He could sneak her in one of his classes and hold her hand while writing. All the things he'd never been able to do with Alexander, he could do now.

Even if it was a little weird because she had the same name as his sister, she offered so much. More than he’d ever deserved. He didn’t deserve her care and worry. She offered up so much love so readily and with so little expectations. She didn’t expect him to love her, she didn’t expect dates every weekend, even if they hung out together every week. They studied together and he spend the weekend at her house.

They had only been together for a month or two, but he had a few clothes stashed away in her drawers, for when he stayed over at her place and forgot his stuff. Sometimes, when he was there, they didn’t even do anything special. John would study and sometimes sketch out illustrations for his final project and she’d work on her Master’s. Sometimes, she asked him to read through something or help with figuring out how two calculations correlated. It was domesticity, it felt like hanging out with his best friend all the time and perhaps, it was that he was in love with.

Part of him wondered if that wasn’t all. If this wasn’t all friendship and caring. He pushed that part of his mind away, pushed it to a corner where it couldn’t speak. He was in love with her. He was. John had to be.

 

He sat in a coffee shop until one pm, until he’d had too many coffees and spend too much time on eating three pancakes. For all John cared, it had been a productive morning. After ending up sketching both Martha and Alexander at the park, he’d come inside and worked on things that _actually_ mattered.

Like his finals project. Like university work. Things that all should matter more to him than his pathetic love life, than the mess he was these days. He knew he was doing worse than his bank account and even that was crying as he tried to make it through month after month.

“Don’t drink too much okay,” the server said when he refilled his cup for what John promised himself was the final time. "You're in your last year, right? I know it's rough, I've been there, but don't kill yourself in the process."

"I know," he sighed, "it's just been a long night. Roommate brought a girl back, not the way I wanted to be woken up." The apologetic smile the guy - Aaron according to his name tag - was enough to fill some of the pity in his chest. "I've been up since four because of them. Thank you though."

"Just my five cents, but throw them out next time." He clasped a hand on his shoulder as he was about to leave. "Good luck. You're almost there" Even if it hadn't been the truth, he was grateful anyway.

It hurt John to not be able to tip him more when he eventually left, but the smile and gratitude had been there in the guy’s eyes and perhaps, that was enough.

“Get yourself together, John,” he mumbled to himself as he slung his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Go home.”

 

By the time John managed to unlock their apartment, it was still dark inside. There was no sign that either the woman or Alexander had been up in the past few hours. It served them right, coming in at four am.

John had taken a longer way home, walked all the way. Even if it had taken an hour and the wind had been colder than anticipated, it had helped him clear his head. It didn't help with his ice clumps of fingers or with how impossible it had been to unlock the door when he eventually walked in at fifteen past two,  but he didn't quite seem to mind. John had figured that Alexander would have been up already, with him having to leave for class at three, but he wasn’t. 

By the time he’d finished his lunch – he hadn’t realized how much he was starving until coming home – Alexander stumbled out of his room, headed straight for the medicine cabinet. He looked a mess, eyes thick and blinking against the bright light in the kitchen.

“Who took the last Tylenol?” he grumbled, slamming the door closed with more force than was necessary. His reaction to the loud sound it made when it clicked in the lock too forcefully was almost worth the pain it had caused John. _Barely._

“You did,” he said, not even bothering to keep his voice down. Normally, John would, but he too hadn’t slept more than two hours and had already been fighting a mental battle the entire day. He was _exhausted_. “I still have some in my bag, one second.”

“Oh, great." Alexander fell down in the chair opposite John, throwing him a half smile when he threw him two Tylenol. "Why does this always happen. Do we have the money for a refill anytime soon?”

“I don’t know.” John was about to get his paycheck and if he could trust his boss, he should be seeing a little higher number for a change. He knew he’d deserved it. It wasn’t for nothing that he worked the busiest shifts and worked through too many sales. No matter how little it was, he was grateful for it. “I’m getting my money tomorrow, we’ll see.”

“I’m getting mine in two days, I think. We’ll see indeed.” Alexander dropped his head in his hands. “Oh, Christ. Remind me to _not_ get drunk on a day I have class.”

“You wouldn’t listen if I do. Don't dry swallow them, here.” He passed him a glass of water for the pills, which he drowned in seconds. “Are you sure you’re going? You know your –“

“My professor can be a dick about it all he wants." It wouldn't be the first time that Alexander would show up either still half drunk or hangover. John had to admit that he admired his work ethic, even if he wasn't sure how sitting in class with a splitting headache could be a help. "I promised someone I’d come, so I’m going.”

“Fine. I’m just trying –“

“Yes, I know. You’re taking care of me. You’ve always done that, just let me be for a moment." John shrugged Alex's hand from his arm when he put it there, perhaps hoping to reassure him. "Jesus. My head feels like it’s about to explode.” Alexander gladly took the coffee John offered, downing it in no more than a few sips. “I didn’t wake you last night, did I? It was late.”

“I was already up,” he lied. “So, who were you with?” John couldn’t help but keep the jealous note out of his voice, no matter how much he hated having it there. “I thought I heard…”

“Oh, sorry,” he said, still clasping the now empty cup. “We tried to keep it down.”

“Who is she? Can I expect to see her again?” John wished that he could sound neutral about this or even excited. Alexander had been when he had brought up Martha the first time.

“Maybe…” He was pensive for a moment, quiet. “I don’t know. I like her, I’m not sure she’s as big a fan of me. We’ll see.”

“Try flirting sober and you’ll be set.”

“But it worked on you drunk.” His expression fell at that. The relaxed mood was gone. Their break up had always been a sensitive topic, one neither brought up. It had only been a matter of time.

“Yeah well, I’m not everyone. Talk to her sober.” God, he needed a shower. A break from the tension. “Remind me to pack some of my clothes back into the suitcases. We”ll be moving out soon anyway and I really didn’t want to bother you this morning. But I need to take a shower.”

“I’m sorry-“

“No, honestly, Alex. It’s fine. Stop.” He shook his head. “I’ll be out soon. you’ll need a shower.”

“Thanks. You look shitty too, you know.” Alexander was just teasing now, a small smile on his lips. The meds had to be working. “Get some sleep, while I’m at class. You look like you could use it.”

“No shit Sherlock. But I will. I’ve done plenty of work for the day.” John sighed before going to fetch clothes and slip in the shower. Thank god that it hadn’t been as awkward as it could have been. If all that stayed from his adventures was the faint smell of perfume, John thought that quite possibly, he might survive the last months.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find this fic on [tumblr](http://confusedjimmy.tumblr.com/post/141948465230/no-one-knows-that-were-losing-the-light-a-modern) should you want to check it out! c: It was written for a prompt from [this list](http://confusedjimmy.tumblr.com/post/140911116680/kilgravesjessica-four-word-prompts-please) and if you want, you can still send me a number + a pairing for it! c:


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